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User blog:Crowsoul50/My Teeth And Ambitions Are Bared (working title) Masked Ones origin stuff lol
A/N: Listened to a Disney villain song playlist as I wrote this uwu we stan a sister with killer plans and killer vocals Also don't pay attention to any grammar or spelling mistakes it was 1am when I started writing and I doubt I'm gonna ever look over any of this before posting TW: language, mentions of alcohol, death It wasn't often that the god of desperation was desperate himself, but tonight was one of those nights. Orphos pulled his black traveler's cloak tighter around himself against the cold wind that bit through the streets of the medieval sect. The fallen leaves scattered beneath his feet from the speed of his walking over the cobblestones. Through the boozy haze settled in his mind from too much to drink earlier, he noted that winter would be coming soon. One of the busiest times for deals, especially in the medieval sect where many people didn't know if they would make it through the winter. He was jolted back to the present by the sound of the contents of his bag clinking together. He stopped at the edge of the road to check it. Sure enough, a mask of a snarling jackal leered back at him. Orphos shuddered and closed the bag, starting to move again. He didn't even know why he bothered to check to see if they were okay. I've already done plenty to try and destroy them, it's not like walking is going to break them. It was true. When he had first gotten the masks from the weird old man for dirt cheap, the god thought he had struck gold. The masks were expertly crafted, so detailed he half expected them to move. Perhaps that's why he hadn't been able to trade them off. There was something... Off about them, he couldn't deny that. The longer he had them, the more he itched to get rid of them. He tried to store them with the rest of his items, but when he came back, the souls he had also stored had moved near them for seemingly no reason. If Orphos handled them for an extended period of time, he started hearing voices, whispers that urged him to try one on, just for a bit. They lingered long after he stopped touching the masks, and it creeped him out more than he cared to admit. There was also the bit about the curse. Everytime he got around to that part in his sales pitch, he could see potential buyers visibly reconsider. Even with his best efforts, even the more desperate mortals balked at the thought of having to kill and feed off souls for the rest of their lives. He couldn't say he blamed them. Val had suggested destroying them, and Orphos threw everything he had at them. Every time he left them somewhere, they would show back up from a within minutes to a few hours. They couldn't be broken. He was looking for someone, anyone, to take them off his hands, which was why he was returning to one of his old haunts. Damn. I'm going to be late. The deity gave up the pretense of power walking and started flat out sprinting to his destination, his cloak flapping out behind him. {+}{+}{+} When Orphos finally reached the marketplace, it was nearly dark. He slowed to a stop outside a rusty wrought iron gate about twice his height. Fog had begun to roll in, softening the outline of the rows of headstones that lay just beyond the gate. The god squinted into the gloom. He was searching for the trademark blue torch perimeter that signified the marketplace had begun. "I swear, if I'm at the wrong graveyard again, I'm going to fucking lose it." Flicking his wrist, he summoned a bright orange animal soul into his palm to light his way. Rearing back, he kicked at the gate, which gave way beneath his foot with a metallic shriek. He stepped into the graveyard and looked around, holding his hand high in the air to get maximum light coverage. Normally, he would toss the soul over his head and trust it to stay there, but they acted unpredictably in the presence of the masks, as if they were attracted to them. He preferred to have it in his hand anyway; for as much as he hung around graveyards like this one, the sheer amount of death around him made him a bit uncomfortable. It gave him a small comfort to have the light in his hand. Finally, he saw the dim blue glow of torches in the distance. Oh, thank me. Orphos wove between the slabs of stone, snuffing the soul in his hand as he got closer to the light. He drew up short. The marketplace was a lot more lively than he was used to. Orbs had been strung between the leafless, twisted trees, casting the various pop-up booths in an ethereal glow. Soft music filtered through the area, coming from a string quartet set up in front of a crypt. People and creatures from all walks of life milled around the booths that were selling items as varied and strange as the customers looking at them. Orphos sidled up to the nearest booth, which housed ornate knives and Minotaur manning it. When they saw the god, they snorted dismissively, their breath fogging in the cold air. "Well if it isn't the legend himself. I thought you were too good for the likes of this place? Or, that's at least what you said when you got kicked out for wiping out half the marketplace last time." Their voice was an intimidating rumble, but their eyes had a mischievous glint in the dim light. Orphos groaned. "That was over a century ago, and I said I was sorry!" He picked up an ornately carved machete and flipped it over in his hands as he spoke. The Minotaur sternly pushed the blade back onto the table. "I'm sure the organizers won't mind you coming back. What do you need, Orphos? Besides a blade- you still haven't paid me back for your last pair. I'm beginning to think that you don't actually have what I asked for." "Relax. It's not exactly easy to figure out how to transport a fucking maze-" "Labryinth." "-Labryinth. Whatever. Anyway, I was just wondering what all the festivities are about. Can't imagine they're celebrating my triumphant return." They snorted again, and Orphos caught the sweet scent of hay. "Actually, I figured that's what you were here for. There's some spunky kid that's been asking for you for weeks now. He keeps bothering all the other shopkeepers about where you are. Not me, he stopped after I threatened to stomp him to death with my hooves, so he's most likely a mortal. Keeps going on and on about how you're his only hope. Odd choice for a role model in my opinion, but I'm not here to judge. He apparently paid for all this, but I'm not entirely sure with what money. Doesn't exactly look like his pockets are lined with gold or anything like that." Orphos rapped his knuckles on the table and exhaled deeply. This certainly wasn't the first time a mortal had attempted to get his attention, but it was the first time that one had gone through the trouble of getting into such a secretive event as the graveyard marketplaces, especially since he hadn't been there for over 100 years. "If he swings by, please don't stomp on him, just direct him over to- is my old booth spot still open?" "Open? Gods, goddesses, and deities, Orphos, no one wants to touch it! They all think it's bad luck." The god smirked. He knew most of the shopkeeps were superstitious, but he never thought they would rather leave his spot open rather than take it over. "Fine by me. If he does stop by, send him over there. I'll be waiting." I'm gonna stop for now, I'm hella tired and have an exam tomorrow lmao. Remind/yell at me to finish later if y'all want to read more uwu 'Part II' A/N: Hi y'all! Six months later... it's here! Sorry for the long wait. As like before, I didn't do much proofreading for this, and if the formatting's wonky, oops oh well. It won't let me unbold the entire thing so that's fun, but hopefully it's still coherent and readable regardless. Speaking of coherent, since this was written over the span of six months, there's a possibility of things being out of place/disjointed/writing style change, but I don't think any of those are bad enough that it detracts from anything. Oh! Almost forgot. The song I had on repeat for this part was ''"The Bitter Suite IV and V: The Congregation and the Sermon in the Silt" by the Dear Hunter. Here's the link if you want to listen while ya read-- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIBJ-RYSAhU trigger warnings as before, if you want or need me to add any, hmu Orphos threaded his way through the maze of stalls, headstones, and attendees. It was a lively place, as cemeteries went, and he was having a hard time going unnoticed. Stall owners locked eyes with him as he passed, and the vast majority didn't exactly look happy to see him. Some of the crowd went out of their way to avoid him. The god rolled his eyes. Despite his last appearance being well before most there had been born, it seemed people weren't keen to forget. In his opinion, his... "incident" didn't warrant him being kicked out. Was it wrong of him to pick a fight with some shopkeeps over petty rumors? Perhaps, but Orphos staunchly maintained it was only self defense to kill three of them. Worse had happened in his time there, but the organizers always had it out for him and had been looking for any reason to bar him from the marketplaces. ''Let them stare. He decided. It's been long enough, and I have business to attend to. He made his way towards the back of the marketplace. His destination was in a quieter corner, but it was no less busy by any stretch of the imagination. This was where the more shady commerce was held, and as such people tended to talk at a lower volume. Orphos didn't mind it, really. He could get better bargains than he could in the less seedy areas of the marketplace. One had to be fairly desperate to venture here. He gave small words of greeting to the shopkeeps here- they were a little more excited about his presence, and he quite liked them and had helped more than a few of them out of scrapes in the past. He rounded a corner and breathed a sigh of relief. The small gazebo he used to set up shop was still standing. When the Minotaur had said no one had touched it, the god had worried that it would have fallen into disarray. However, it looked as good as the day he left it, better even. Someone had given it a good cleaning and a fresh coat of paint. He could pick out three people sitting on one of the benches under the gabled roof. "That's my spot." He grumbled to himself. Orphos felt a twinge of hostility in his gut and he picked up his pace. When he reached the gazebo, the people inside made no move to leave. "Beat it. This is mine." the god glared at them, hoping his sour disposition would be enough for them to move. He didn't feel like fighting for real estate at the moment. "If this is how you treat potential customers, I'd hate to see how you talk to people who aren't interested." one of them, the only female of the group, replied smoothly. Immediately, Orphos started sizing them up. Over the years he learned he could discover a lot about what people would come to him for just by paying attention. For instance, all three of them were wearing black-- not the happiest crew, perhaps-- and the woman that had just spoken was looking at another person in her group as if waiting for confirmation. She likely wasn't in charge, but she carried herself with enough confidence that Orphos was sure that she would be extremely capable in that position. She had been leaning back onto the fencing behind the bench, taking up more space than the other two. When she spoke, she leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. Thick, curly golden hair stopped just below her chin, framing a freckled face with unnaturally dark eyes and a long scar down her right cheek. Orphos decided that something about her seemed off. The vibe she exuded was chaotic, to say the least. The person she was looking at, though, had her beat in the unsettling category. Just making eye contact with him made the god want to turn around and leave. The mortal’s eyes were bright yellow, like his own, but had normal pupils instead of Orphos’s catlike ones. He stared at Orphos intently, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His face was all angles, making him handsome in a severe kind of way. His hair was black, and cut very short. He wasn’t anyone Orphos would want to meet in a dark alley, which said a lot considering how many people he encountered in that way. He tried to hold the mortal’s stare, but ended up looking away. He couldn’t help but feel like he had lost some kind of game. In his search to find something else to look at, his eyes settled on the last member of the group; a child. He looked like he couldn’t have been much older than 12. He was using the other male mortal like a human shield, huddling behind him from his seat on the bench. He watched Orphos warily through a mess of spiky brown hair that hung in front of his grey eyes. The deity didn’t care much for children, but seeing someone so young in a place such as this made him doubt that he was there on his own volition. “All right. I’ll bite.” Orphos sat down on the bench opposite of the trio. “You’re lucky that I’m curious enough to hear you out and not smite you on sight for being a nuisance. I heard you were asking around for me. What gives? You want to make a deal?” And if it’s as simple as that, why didn’t they track me down like regular mortals do? How did they know I would be here tonight? '' The adult male seemed to sense the god’s confusion and smiled. The unease grew in Orphos’s stomach. One thing was for sure, he didn’t trust this stranger as far as he could throw him. “Correct! We do want to make a deal. I have heard from several sources that you have something quite valuable in your possession. Actually, several valuable somethings.” He smile widened, but it seemed more like a baring of teeth than anything. “We want the masks. And, for the record, we didn’t know if you were going to make an appearance today. I figured you would show up within the next couple days, and we were prepared to wait for however long it would take. Some would say it’s only coincidence that we crossed paths earlier than expected, however I would argue that it’s fate. Wouldn’t you agree?” “Nope. No such thing,” Orphos replied stonily. The mortal was beginning to annoy him. He seemed much too sure of himself for the god’s liking. “Like you said, you knew I’d be coming at some point. Anyways. Let’s get down to business. You say you want the masks? What for?” His eyes raked across the group, settling once again on the child, who buried himself further into the other mortal’s back. “I’m not sure you understand the weight of what you’re dealing with. Hell, even I’m not completely sure.” The man not-so-gently moved the child away from himself before he answered. “I’ve heard the masks grant immortality and heal the wearer. Is that true?” His eyes were wide with emotions that Orphos knew all too well: greed and desperation. ''Gotcha. “Yes. Why? You sick? I’d say so, since it looks like I could toss you out of this graveyard with one hand behind my back.” It was true. The god had noticed how the man’s clothes were hanging loosely off his frame. His face was gaunt and pale, with shadows under his eyes dark enough to rival his own. It was like talking to a scarecrow, except he surmised the man was capable of scaring far more than birds. “That’s not true! Take it back!” The boy, quiet no more, hopped off the bench and stood in front of Orphos, his little fists clenched at his sides. “He could win against you any day!” He didn’t respond. He was sure that the other two wouldn’t react kindly to the child trying to go toe to toe with someone they were doing business with. Orphos’s hypothesis was proven correct when the woman yanked the boy back by the back of his shirt with a disapproving hiss. “You’ll have to forgive him, he wasn’t raised right and doesn’t know his manners,” she said, shooting the boy a poisonous stare. Orphos almost felt bad for him. Almost. He raised a brow at the man. “Y’know, masks like this, power like this, doesn’t come along very often these days. You seem to be in quite the tough spot. But there’s always someone whose spot is tougher, and who’s willing to pay a little bit more--” “All of our souls. And anything else. I will have these masks.” the man took a step towards Orphos, and he had an overwhelming urge to put as much distance between him and this stranger as possible. Something didn’t sit right with this group. He was no fortune teller, but over the millenia, he had developed a sense of people, and death followed these three as naturally as their shadows. Still, he remained firm. He was a god, a patron of deals; he had the control, the final say, and there would be hell to pay for those who believed they could take that away. Looking the man in the eye, he responded with a single icy word: “No.” “‘No’?” the man echoed. His composure was one of polite shock, but Orphos could see the emotion bubbling underneath clear as day. “No. Souls are too easy. Do you even know how these work? Once you put them on, they cannot come off. They grant immortality, but you must provide them with the energy to do so. The masks require a steady stream of souls to function. Fail to provide that, and your own soul and physical body are consumed by the mask. Taking your souls would be counterintuitive. And, honestly, you’re starting to piss me off. You come in here with all your arrogance, expecting everything to go to plan, and you camped out in my spot. So no, I’m not letting you off with something as simple as that.” His gaze switched to the woman, who was glancing between man and deity with uncertainty. “But. This can benefit all of us, if you agree to play by my rules. One, if I give you the masks, I get a cut of the souls you collect. Preferably mortal, preferably fresh. All you gotta do is say they’re for me, and they’ll get to me eventually-- the crows and the Underworld work in mysterious ways. Two, I don’t care who asks, but I don’t get a cut. As far as anyone else knows, you operate on your own. I am not in charge of your actions, and I never will be. We are not buddies, and if it comes to me having to take you down in order to protect myself, I will not hesitate to do so. Lastly, since you are working for me, I’ll toss in some perks for you, but they cost more, and you can’t say no to them. They come with the masks. Take it or leave it. Clear?” The boy started to ask something, but was quickly drowned out by the enthusiastic man. “Clear.” “I’ll give you three a minute to talk about what it is you want for your extras. This is extremely generous of me to do, so don’t waste it on something stupid.” With that, Orphos sidled out of the gazebo. He made his way to a marble bench about 10 yards away and sat down. He watched as the trio huddled and began to speak earnestly. Honestly, the god wasn’t too particularly worried about this whole thing. Despite the group's obvious shadiness, they were only mortals. He doubted they would last very long in the masks, but that didn’t matter. Even if they didn’t, the cursed things would be out of his hands, and the influx of souls would be nice while it lasted. And if they did somehow survive longer than expected, it would really just mean more souls for him. Overall, it was a total win. The three looked like they had reached a decision. Orphos stood, stretched, then walked back over to them with his bag of masks in tow. “What’s your proposal?” The man spoke first. “Along with the mask, I want an increased power of persuasion for… one of my eyes and the kid’s voice.” The boy looked at the god with steely eyes. “I consent.” Orphos was slightly taken aback. “You sure you want this, kid? That means you won’t be able to speak again, and I know how kids are physically incapable of shutting up.” “I’m sure.” “Okay, fine by me. However,” he turned to the man. “I’m still taking part of your soul. I find you annoying, and it would do you well to remember that it doesn’t hurt to show a little humility in front of a deity.” '“Deal.” '''The man gave a halfhearted shrug. The deity was increasingly wary of how little the man seemed to car about cost. The god turned to the boy next. “What about you? You’re already giving up your voice. What else?” “Strength. I want to be strong. Really strong.” “That’s it?” Orphos asked. Try as he might, he wasn’t one hundred percent on board with the kid doing this. Maybe he could have had a normal life in another time, but now he was standing in a graveyard in the middle of the night doing business with a deity. Still, a deal’s a deal. “Tell you what. I’ll throw in teleportation too, since you’re willingly participating in the other deal. How does that sound?” The boy risked a glance at his two companions before nodding. Orphos tilted his head in the woman’s direction. “And you?” The woman stiffened slightly. “I want to be able to sense souls. It would help all of us.” She gave Orphos a bewildered look when he doubled over in laughter. “Oh, she’s funny! I like her… aaaaaaand you’re being serious. Well, that’s a lot to ask. You’d have to wipe out your immediate family for that one.” he chuckled again. “Consider it done.” the certainty in her words gave the god a chill. He straightened up. “Okay, then once that’s done, send their souls my way so I know. If you don’t, I’ll haunt you forever. We’ve got our deals.” he stuck his hand out. The man shook it first, than the woman. The boy hesitated for a moment before doing so as well. Orphos felt the familiar rush of power whenever he did a deal, a feeling almost as intoxifying as a few rounds of alcohol. He set his bag down on the ground and began to root through it. “Okay. Man, you get the jackal mask. Kid, the hyena, and lady, the eagle.” As he spoke, he ran his thumb over the eagle mask, adding a condition of his own. He knew the bigwigs in the Underworld wouldn’t be happy with his deal with the woman-- frankly, neither was he. So, with a quick whisper, he made it so the mask would fuse with the soul of her family, if she ever were to follow through with her side of the bargain. ''Let them remind her of what she sacrificed for her immortality. The others get physical reminders, so should she. With that, he handed the bag over to the man. “Don’t put those on in the cemetery. You’ll attract too much attention here if you do. Once the masks are on, the extras will also take effect. Once you leave those gates, you are not allowed back in this cemetery under any circumstances. You don’t belong here and shouldn’t have even walked in here in the first place. Now go.” The man bowed as they disappeared between the headstones, but it was more mocking than respectful. The grin on his face reminded Orphos of the very mask he had assigned to him. “A pleasure doing business with you.” (FIN) Category:Blog posts